The Golden Summertime
by Burnee14
Summary: Black for hunting through the night, For death and mourning the color's white, Gold for a bride in her wedding gown, And red to call enchantment down. Warning: May contain ducks. Short story (3 parts) following Theresa Gray and James Carstairs after the events of the Mortal Instruments. Please read and review.


A/N: I do not own, nor will I ever own (sadly), the rights to the Infernal Devices. I finished this series again today, for the third time, and I felt this story needed to be written and told. It will likely be done in three parts, this being the first. I have never written fanfiction for the Infernal Devices, or the Mortal Instruments before, so bare with me. For those of you who have not completed these two book series SPOILER ALERT. You have been warned.

Enjoy. x

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 _Blackfriars Bridge, 2008_

 _Tessa Gray stood looking out over the glittering surface of the Thames. Her hands gripped at the metal railing, her fingers chipping nervously at the red paint. She had watched this bridge decay, had watched it transform over the many decades of her life, and be fixed, and decay again. She came here once a year, back to the city where she had found a family, to remember a chapter that had ended._ For wasn't life just one great book _? But books were meant to end. And hers was fated to last forever._

 _One by one her loved ones had grown old with mortality, had passed away, and she had not. She had watched, helpless, as her descendants struggled with pain and heartbreak, with love and loss. She could not take it, so she had moved away. But this was a promise. Every year, she would return. And every year she_ would _remember._

 _Magnus had helped her through the years that had dragged on past the death of her husband. He had held her as she wept, had told her that everything would be alright eventually, but it wasn't alright and she thought she was the worst sort of person for thinking that. Will's death had caused her such agony, and only time had lessened it._

 _And now she was faced with the possibility that she would go through it all again. With James._

 _Jem had never wanted to be a silent brother, not really. There was no light, no music down in the city of bones. He had always been exquisitely_ human _. He possessed an innocence, an otherworldly kindness. She had thought that gone. She had accepted that they would never be Will, Jem and Tessa as they had been, she would never laugh with them again, never discuss ideas, never play cards or joke about the dining table in the Institute. But he would still be alive, and she was willing to accept that. She would have a friend to talk to forever, someone who understood how she felt. How losing_ Will _felt._

 _But all the heartbreak in the world was worth it. To be able to spend years and years with the people you love, to watch them grow up, to watch them grow old. Immortality was a curse, yes. But it was also a gift. For if she weren't, immortal that is, she would never be in the position she was in now. And for that gift she felt extremely blessed. So she followed him. She followed him across the bridge, through the people milling about, and down the steps to beside the Thames, where he stood, looking out over the waters…_

"Miss Gray. Miss Gray?"

Tessa was brought out of her reverie to find herself staring in wonder at the mirror before her. The dress was both traditional and modern; her arms were bare - but for the pearl bracelet on her wrist- suitable for the hot summer weather that seemed to scorch the very pathways in Los Angeles. The neckline itself was modest, not showing too much skin, and the white silk fabric cascaded down around her so that her feet were hidden. It was plain, with no lace or added design, as some mundanes would have preferred, and was complimented perfectly by the jade pendant that hung on a long chain around her neck. Her dark hair fell in ringlets about her face, interwoven with pearl hairpins. She had decided on white in the end, not gold. She had worn gold in her wedding to Will, all those years ago, when she had been a little more involved with the Nephilim customs. But this dress was easily as beautiful as that dress had been, and it held its own special meaning to her. She smiled, willing herself not to cry happy tears.

"Yes, thank you, Dorcas. It's truly beautiful, I don't know how I'll ever-"

"Repay me? Nonsense. Last year you helped me find my son, and if it wasn't for you he would doubtless have died, the stupid boy. You are a friend, and I _happen_ to be a seamstress with a few favours to pull in."

Tessa turned to look at the werewolf standing behind her; thin lipped with greying hair and slightly eerie green eyes, and an air of authority, but with all the love and kindness of a mother. She was well respected by all those who knew her. Dorcas was the mother of the L.A pack's leader. The previous year a rouge vampire had nearly killed him, after the idiot had sought him out on his own, with no backup, but Tessa had tracked and healed him all the same. Her fiancé had taken care of the vampire.

Tessa was about to argue that she should be allowed to at least _pay_ for her own wedding dress when her phone began to buzz on the table next to her. Dorcas looked smug, having won the battle for now and sauntered off back to the front of her store. Tessa picked it up and put it to her ear, amused to find that modern technology was still as amazing as ever to her.

"Hello?" she greeted, stepping off the platform she had been stationed on, careful not to unbalance on her precariously high heels as she did so.

"Tessa? Hi, it's Jocelyn Garroway. I'm really sorry for not calling earlier, but _someone_ misplaced the wedding invitation, and I've only just found it-" she could hear quiet laughter in the background, and smiled, assuming the 'someone' was Jocelyn's husband, Luke.

"Don't be silly, the invitations were only sent out two weeks ago-"

"Yes, but I'm still very sorry for not replying sooner. And we would love to come to your wedding. That is if there are still seats for us?"

Tessa smiled again in amusement. "Yes, of course there are. It will be wonderful to see the two of you again."

They exchanged goodbyes before hanging up. Tessa stuffed her phone into her handbag before closing herself in one of the three changing rooms that lined the back of the shop. She carefully removed her dress, placing it back into its special bag, and zipping it closed. She then gently pulled out the pins in her hair, putting them in a small silver box, before placing that, too, into her own bag. She pulled on a light-blue summer jumper, a loose white skirt and flats, before making her way to the desk near the front door. She pulled out her purse and was about to engage in the argument of payment with Dorcas, again, when there was a knock on the door.

"That's my next client," Dorcas said, stepping out from behind the desk, taking the dress off Tessa and hanging the bag up on a railing fixed to the wall.

"But-"

Dorcas had her hand on Tessa's shoulder and was gently moving her towards the door.

"No buts. I will not accept a penny," she said firmly, but not unkindly.

Dorcas grasped the handle and pushed Tessa onto the bustling street outside. Tessa caught a brief glimpse of a fey woman, with twigs for hair and clothes made out of carefully woven leaves, before she moved through the door Tessa had just come through. Tessa turned around, still fascinated by the odd, yet dangerous beauty of the fey species, even after all her years.

"I'll see you on your wedding day, Theresa Gray," she heard, as Dorcas brought the door closed with a resounding thud.

 _On my wedding day._ She felt like one of the characters from a book, the one who was _allowed_ to live happily ever after. Tessa smiled to herself, feeling silly, as if she were some teenage girl about to marry her childhood sweetheart. But then, in a way, she was. She was marrying James Carstairs. In three weeks time.

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 **Please Review if you have a minute to spare, I would love to know if you have any thoughts on my writing. Or if you want to discuss anything, just PM me.**


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